I4o KILVERT'S DIARY [Se?t.

in the room but her bed and a chair. She lay with the blanket over
her head. When her son turned the blanket down I was almost
frightened. It was a mad skeleton with such a wild scared animal's
face as I never saw before. Her dark hair was tossed weird and un-
kempc, and she stared at me like a wild beast. But she began directly
to talk rationally though her mind wandered at moments. I tried
to bring some serious thoughts back to her mind. 'Whom do you
pray to when you say your prayers?' 'Mr. Venables.' It was the
dim lingering idea of someone in authority. I repeated the Lord's
Prayer and the old familiar words seemed to come back to her by
degrees till she could say it alone. When I went away she besought
me earnestly to come again. 'You'll promise to come again now.
You'll promise,5 she said eagerly.

I went to the Homme where John Meredith's sister has been
taken in a very queer way and seems to have gone out of her mind.

Friday, September Day

I dined at Hay Castle. The Fanshawes were staying in the house.
Last night Arthur Crichton amused them all after dinner by dressing,
acting and singing 'The Grecian Bend'. While his brother and sister-
in-law were away he amused himself with cutting down the trees
at Wye ClifFby bed candle light.

Sunday, 3 September

I went to Bettws in light rain and preached extempore on the
Good Samaritan from the Gospel for the day. A red cow with a
foolish white face came up to the window by the desk and stared in
while I was preaching.
Tuesday, 5 September

The day was lovely and I went over to Newchurch. A solitary
fern cutter was at work on the Vicar's Hill mowing the fern with a
sharp harsh ripping sound. From the Little Mountain the view was
superb and the air exquisitely clear. The Glee Hills seemed marvel-
lously near. The land glittered, variegated with colours and gleams
of wheat, stubble and blue hill. The yellow potentilla jewelled the
turf with its tiny gems of gold and the frail harebell trembled blue
among the fern tipped here and there with autumn yellow. The
little lonely tree bowed on the mountain brow, and below lay the
tiny village deep in the valley among the trees embosoming the
little church with its blue spire and Emmeline's grave.